


Selfish Prayers

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Sex, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, Hunter Chris Argent, Incubus Stiles Stilinski, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: His eye catches on a sweet-looking young thing. The boy—though he could easily be three times Chris’s age, it’s impossible to tell—is all fair skin and slender limbs with pouty lips and doe eyes.Peter sees where his attention has fallen, and huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t, Christopher. You might bite off more than you can chew with that one.”“Sounds like my type.”





	Selfish Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks/blame on this go to red_crate, DenaCeleste, and SlasherFiend. Blame also goes to Rufferto for running Chris Argent Appreciation Week, which made me want to write ALL THE STARGENT. 
> 
> I'M SORRY/YOU'RE WELCOME AND HAPPY FRIDAY!

 

 

He knows he’s playing with fire. If his reputation for fairness didn’t precede him, he probably wouldn’t be allowed in. It’d be smarter not to come here. _Behind the Shadows_ isn’t for him, anyway. It’s for the supernatural community. He belongs here about as much as a Catholic priest belongs in a gay bar. “Get me drunk,” he tells the bartender.

Peter raises an eyebrow at him, even as he starts fixing a drink. “Back again, Christopher?”

He toasts Peter with the drink put into his hand. “Can’t stay away.”

It’s painfully true. After knowing the adrenaline of the hunt, of getting to play the hero, of surviving the night by the skin of his teeth, going to a regular bar to pick up someone for a quick fuck fails to excite.

There’s just something about getting naked and vulnerable with creatures he knows could kill him, if they wanted. He likes to think it goes both ways. It certainly did with him and Peter, but then, Peter’s not what you’d call typical, even for a werewolf.

The lights and music are both low. The patrons here like it that way. The bass thrums behind his breastbone as he sips his drink and scans what he can see of the dance floor. His eye catches on a sweet-looking young thing. The boy—though he could easily be three times Chris’s age, it’s impossible to tell—is all fair skin and slender limbs with pouty lips and doe eyes.

Peter sees where his attention has fallen, and huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t, Christopher. You might bite off more than you can chew with that one.”

“Sounds like my type.” And it does. His type is anything that’ll make his father shit a brick if he ever finds out.

Peter snorts. “Well, it’s your funeral. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chris tips the last of his drink back, sets the empty glass on the bar, and wades through the mass of bodies until he can slot up behind the kid who caught his eye. He leans back, letting Chris take his weight, head tipping to expose his throat, and Jesus, he’s even prettier up close. Chris didn’t think that was possible.

He’s not sure how long they dance for. It feels like hours, but that probably has a lot to do with the way he’s rock-hard in his jeans. Kid seems to know it, too, judging by the way he pushes that sweet little ass back into the cradle of Chris’s hips. All he does know is that when those plush lips murmur in his ear about getting out of there, he’s more than eager.

He doesn’t expect the slender little thing to pin him to the side of his own car to kiss hungrily. But he goes with it. He figured Bambi was something other than human, but didn’t expect this, somehow. He’d let himself get caught up in appearances, maybe. In thinking, as a hunter, he couldn’t be prey.

He wishes being the kid’s conquest—rather than the other way around—didn’t appeal to him as much as it does. But he can’t deny that it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced to be manhandled into his own car by someone who looks like he’d snap in half if you squeezed too hard. The kid—he looks like one, Chris is gonna think of him as one, at least until he gets a name—kicks off his shoes and shucks his jeans, leaving his bottom half bare, before climbing into the backseat and on top of Chris.

He thinks they’re going to make out some more, or that maybe Bambi will want to fuck his face, but that’s not on the agenda, apparently, because after one more searingly hot kiss that ends way too soon, the kid’s unfastening his jeans and dragging them and his underwear down just far enough for his cock to spring free. Before he can mention the condoms or packet of lube in the front pocket of his jeans, the kid’s sinking down, and his eyes roll back in his head.

The kid’s already slick and stretched, his insides hot and silky. Chris knows he’s not gonna last long—not that the wild child bouncing madly on his lap seems to care. He reaches up, hands resting on the slender hips, and the kid must like that, because he looks down and grins.

The teeth in it are too sharp.

His heart pounds in a way that has nothing to do with his impending orgasm, and the kid seems to know it. “You were so gullible, Hunter. So ready to believe that my sweet face was the truth.” Shadows seem to swirl under the kid’s skin, his eyes sharp and cold. He doesn’t stop riding Chris, or stroking himself. “You knew I was trouble, but couldn’t resist me anyway.” The grin stretching the pretty mouth is both amused and sad. “I wish I could tell you to be more discerning about who you fuck, but in this case, you thinking with your dick is on me.”

Everything’s hazy, and he’s confused. How is this the kid’s fault? He was warned—Peter told him. He wanted anyway. He’s scared of what this kid is, what’s going to happen to him. But he’s still going to come soon. He couldn’t prevent that if he tried.

The orgasm building in his pelvis hits like a freight train. The intensity of it actually scares him a little, and he must say something, because the kid goes, “It’s alright, Hunter, don’t fight it,” and maybe it’s monumentally stupid to trust him to tell the truth, but Chris does anyway. It’s not like he’s got a lot of options.

After, he’s weak. He wants to make sure the baby-faced supe comes too, but he doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes, let alone jack the pretty thing’s dick. It doesn’t seem to matter, though—the breathy groan and splatter of heat across his chest are a pretty good indicator that the kid made it across the finish line. He kinda wants to pout when pretty thing lifts off him and pulls his underwear up just enough that he’s not lying there with his dick out.

He’s not sure what happens next, but he comes to when cold water is thrown across him. He struggles upright in the cramped backseat, peeling his eyes open to see Peter’s smirking face. He groans. “Jesus, I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

“I’m not surprised. I did warn you. Now, are you gonna climb out, or do I have to douse you again?”

He feels shaky, and more cold water isn’t what he needs right now, so he clumsily slides out of his car. He sways on his feet, and Peter catches him. “Fuck off.”

“No thanks, you reek of come as it is.” Despite the snark, Peter still helps him tug his jeans up before leading him towards a waiting cab, strong arm around his waist to steady him. He doesn’t want to be grateful Peter got him a cab, but he absolutely is. He feels simultaneously drunk _and_ hungover.

Before he gets in, he has to know. “What is he?”

Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow, tucking him into the backseat of the cab effortlessly. “I’m going to assume that your brain function has been temporarily affected by the energy drain, and not that you’re actually this stupid.” Chris pulls his best bitchface. “An _incubus_. Really, Christopher, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

And wow, okay, yeah. He does feel like an idiot. But not as much of one as when he asks, “What’s his name?”

Peter closes the door of the cab. “He goes by ‘Stiles’, but I wouldn’t chase him if I were you. He wants you, he’ll find you.”

 Chris nods as the cab pulls away. He knows Peter’s right, not that he’ll ever admit it out loud. But when he thinks about the pretty thing that rode him hard and put him away wet, he can’t help the throb of _want_ that pulses in his groin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *runs back to my WIP list*


End file.
